


Mysterious Ways

by Rauchendes_GNU



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - All Human, Alternate Universe - High School, Betrayal, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Broken Hearts, Caring Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Christmas, Comfort, Dean being a good big brother, Guilt, Hurt, Hurt Castiel, I have no idea what I'm doing, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Priest Castiel (Supernatural), Prison (sort of), Self-Harm, Slow Build, Teenager Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rauchendes_GNU/pseuds/Rauchendes_GNU
Summary: “Hello, Dean.”The boy turned around and his snarky remark stuck in his throat. Castiel had always been quite pale but this time it was even worse. He seemed to be thin as well and Dean couldn’t help but worry.“Cas, are you alright?”A kind, sad smile responded to that question.“I have to tell you something. You might want to sit down.”In which Dean is drawn to a priest in detention center who has a dark secret.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Mysterious Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!  
> First of all, I am not sure about some of the facts in this story. If I got anything wrong regarding church or detention center please let me know. Also, I'm insecure about the rating. If anybody thinks T is not high enough, let me know and I'll change it.
> 
> Secondly, there's gonna be some trigger warnings in the notes at the end to not spoil the story. Check them out if needed.
> 
> I think that should be it. Enjoy reading!

Mysterious Ways

They closed the cell doors at eight o’clock. Sometimes they would leave the light on for another ten minutes. Most times they didn’t. The first night was really horrible. Being imprisoned in that little grey cell all by himself. Dean didn’t give a rat’s ass about what they told him. It was jail whether they called it that or not.

The nights were the worst. It was because there was so much going through his head. Sammy. Dad. Mom. Although it mostly was Sammy. His cuts and bruises. He was only thirteen, goddammit!

There were nights were Dean did get some sleep. But there were also those nights where his brain wouldn’t stop screaming. Sometimes he would just lie on the small bed and stare at the ceiling (or the blackness where the ceiling should’ve been). When it got really bad he would do push-ups until he was too tired to stay awake.

The days were okay. He would get up at six-thirty, had a short morning routine (he still cursed them for not letting him have a deodorant, he stank like a pig) and breakfast, then work and therapy (he didn’t need no therapy, it had been self defence… sort of).

At twelve he had lunch (no need to mention that it was gross) and then even more work and after that, at five, he had some free time. Dean mostly used it to hustle some poker games or to breathe some fresh air in the yard. When he got lucky he could talk to the nice prison guard with the dark hair. He didn’t know her name, but he had only been in here for a few days, so that kinda explained that.

On the first few days Dean decided to not collaborate with the workers because, honestly, he didn’t need that crap. He also managed to get into a fight with another guy which ended with him being in isolation. He had a massive bruise on his cheek from where the d-bag punched him.

“Dean, we need to talk,” Ms Carlson said. Dean just shrugged. He was sitting on one of those chairs that tried a little too hard to be comfortable. The therapist sat across from him, a notebook in her lap, legs crossed like a professional. She had that concerned look on her face that a lot of grown-ups wore when they were talking to children they found difficult.

“I have watched you for the last couple of days and I am concerned about your withdrawal from all activities. You are here to give your life a new direction, one to ensure you don’t get in trouble.”

“Oh, I’m good. Peachy,” Dean answered. It was not true, his body was sore from the fight yesterday and he was sure he looked like a joke. But hey, his life was a joke, so what. Carlson looked at him in disapproval but Dean didn’t care.

“Are you getting yourself into fights on purpose?”

“What? No!”

He might’ve answered that one a little too fast. But he’d told the truth. He wasn’t seeking trouble. Trouble just had a habit of finding him. He didn’t tell her, though.

“The more you cooperate the faster you get out of here.”

For a moment Dean considered it but didn’t matter. They would take him away from Dad. Which meant he’d be away from Sammy. For the rest of the session Dean just sat there and stared at Carlson until she gave up and brought him back into his cell. No out time.

He kept boycotting the program for the rest of the first week, got into two more fights and won some more illegal cigarettes. On Sunday he was scheduled for counseling. He had been told that there was a priest (Meg said he was hot, but honestly, that dude was from _church_ , no way he would be good-looking) who would be taking care of their souls or whatever. He’d talked to Meg about it during lunch. Rumour had it that she had done some serious crap but she never told anyone about it. She just talked about the big black dog that was waiting for her when she got home. Dean thought she was just acting tough, though. And she had a crush on the clergyman.

There was a small chapel in the facility and Dean found himself actually going there. Maybe it was curiosity,  it very quickly became boring when you had nothing to do. He sat in one of the benches and waited. There were sigils and signs painted on the walls  that Dean had never seen or heard of . On the altar stood a wooden figure of Jesus. It was minimalistic but sometimes that was just enough to start believing. Not Dean. He just sat there and thought about the last time he had been inside of a church. He remembered a play. Maybe it had been  at Christmas. He really didn’t recall it.  It must‘ ve been when Mom had still been alive  because Dean remembered the necklace she’d always worn .

Father Novak was on point.  Dean could hear his steps on the stone floor before he could see him. Meg had been right. Novak  _was_ hot (in a very straight way). He was wearing a black button up and fitting pants just the way all reverends dressed. His dark hair was in disarray but the rest  of him  was flawless,  almost morbidly clean . The most captivating thing about him were his eyes, though. As he got closer Dean could see that they were almost glowing in a vibrant blue. Father Novak extended his hand and Dean stood up and took it without noticing having done so.

“Hello, Dean. I am Father Castiel Novak. It’s nice to meet you.” Father Novak had a deep, gravelly voice. Dean didn’t know what to answer.

“We can relocate our session to a room more appealing to you if you wish,” the reverend offered, obviously noticing Dean’s indisposition.

“I’m fine, really,” Dean answered half-heartedly. Father Novak raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Instead he led Dean through the chapel into a little room behind. It was stuffed with icons and books, most of them Bibles, but Dean could also see a book with Arabic hand writing and something in what he thought looked like Latin.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Novak said and sat down on one of two chairs. Dean followed him and waited for instructions.

“I know you have gotten into trouble pretty early within your stay here.”

It was a statement but it didn’t sound accusing. Dean looked at the churchman.

“You don’t need to talk to me about it, just know that I am here if you want to.”

“Well, that’s nice of you, sir, but I’m not really into all this God-stuff,” Dean replied with that cocky grin that he could slip on like a mask.

“You think I want to preach to you.”

Again no question.

“You don’t need to believe in God to seek help from the church. And I know what you are going through.”

“Believe me, Padre, you have no idea.”

“I haven’t always been a man of the cloth. A couple of years ago I was struggling with some serious issues.”

There was something in Novak’s voice that made Dean shut up.

They didn’t say a lot after that.

“I am here on Sundays and Wednesdays. If there’s anything I can do for you, that’s when you can reach me.”

With that Novak rose from his chair and Dean stood as well.

“Thanks, Mr. Novak,” he said and gave him a little smile.

“You’re welcome.”

“He’s hot, right?” Meg said before taking a big bite of her sandwich. Dean threw a disgusted side glance at the so-called food. Was there really no way in getting them something good to eat?

“I don’t know, he’s quite okay, I guess.”

Meg rolled her eyes at that comment.

“Honestly, Dean, who do you want to fool?”

Dean’s head shot up at that comment.

“What?”

“If I had a nickel every time you pretend to be straight...”

“Oh, shut up!”

Dean ate his sandwich and decided to ignore Meg’s comments although he couldn‘t keep a blush from spreading over his face.

“But you gotta agree that he’s young, right?”

He considered not saying anything but Meg was right, Novak  _was_ young. He couldn’t be older than late twenties.

“Sure he is. Maybe his family’s orthodox,” Dean replied with a shrug.

“Sure. And I’m the Queen of England. Spencer wants to play poker later, you in?” Meg asked suddenly changing the topic. Dean agreed and forced himself to finish that damn sandwich.

That night he had a lot to think about. Next week he would be allowed to have visitors. Dean hoped that Sam and Dad would come. He lay on his bed thinking about his little brother. Today he should’ve visited Sam’s basketball game. Dean hoped that at least Dad had gone. But knowing him Dean mused that Sam probably had been alone. He felt guilt clawing in his stomach. That night he ended up doing push-ups.

It was Wednesday when he saw Father Novak again. Dean was just out in the yard watching the birds fly over the walls and buildings that kept him inside. It had been a hard day. He’d refused to talk to his therapist (they called themselves counselors but they treated him like he needed therapy) and hat gotten into a fight again. His bottom lip was split and he would have bruises all over his body for at least the  following  week.

He was watching a raven sit on the fence eyeing the inmates with black eyes when he heard a familiar voice, deep and gravelly, next to him.

“Sometimes I envy the birds.”

Dean threw a glance at Father Novak.

“Why’s that?”

“They can spread their wings and fly wherever they want. No border, no wall can keep them from reaching their goal.”

“I don’t like flying,” Dean replied.

“Never have. Plane could crash. Sammy’s always teasing me because of that.”

“Who’s Sammy?”

Dean smiled  fondly . He thought of that day where he’d first seen his baby brother. He’d been so small in Mom’s arms all covered with towels and blankets and he’d thought  _I will never let anything bad happen to you, I promise_ . He hadn’t known that this promise was so hard to keep.

“He’s my brother.”

There was a comfortable silence between them where both, the teenager and the reverend, were taking in the peaceful moment.

“I should’ve been at his game a couple of days back.”

A move at the corner of his eye told Dean that Novak was now looking at him.

“I hope that at least Dad came but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“You care a lot about your brother,” the man observed. Dean nodded.

“I’d do anything for him.”

The silence came back as Dean didn’t know what to add to that and Novak seemed to be lost in thought.

“You got into a fight again.”

“That sonofabitch was insulting Meg. She could’ve kicked ass without me of course hadn’t she gotten the message that her dog died this morning. He also really had it coming. Is a dick.”

“You should get that cleaned up.”

Novak gestured toward Dean’s mouth.

“Yeah.”

Dean didn’t remember walking there but he found himself  in the room where Father Novak had first talked to him. The dark haired man had gently pushed him to sit in one of the chairs and was now kneeling down next to him, wiping the blood from his bottom lip and chin. Afterwards he gave Dean a dampened cold towel to  press onto the bruises.

“Thank you, Mr. Novak.”

The father smiled.

“Just call me Castiel.”

“That’s a strange name.”

Castiel chuckled. “It  is an angel’s name. It means something like  _My_ _cover is God_ .”

“So, you’re really into church and God and Mary and everything?”

There was a genuine smile on Castiel’s features as he answered.

“When you’ve had a past like I had you start believing.”

“Can I ask you something?” Dean said. His words were muffled by the towel on his lip.

“Of course.”

“If there’s a god, why’s life such a bitch?”

Castiel thought for a moment before he answered.

“I think it’s because our Father wants us to make our own mistakes and learn from them. Imagine there’s a child who wants to learn how to ride a bicycle. Their parents can tell them to be careful but the child will never fully understand the warning until they fall and graze their knees.”

Dean thought about that and nodded.

“For me I get it. But Sammy? He’s never done anything wrong. It’s not his fault that he’s only got me. It’s not his fault that Mom is dead. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Castiel didn’t know an answer to that.  They  remained silent.

“Castiel?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“When you go into town today can you tell my brother that I’m sorry I couldn’t see his game?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“And Dean?”

When Castiel didn’t continue Dean looked up directly into those really blue eyes.

“Your brother can be glad he’s got you.”

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t have to go into isolation after the fight. Meg seemed as surprised as he did. She had only one little scratch on her arm from before Dean came to her aid. Dean suspected Castiel of having something to do with  not having him punished.

The following days Dean started paying more attention. He began to work on the stuff he was missing out in school. Maths was a bitch but Literature was okay (he secretly even enjoyed reading and analyzing Vonnegut, but if anyone found out, he’d deny it). He could even fall asleep more easily. Sometimes he would sit in his cell and think about what Castiel had said. Was this whole thing really just His way of teaching humanity to be careful?

Ms Carlson was pleased with his change of behavior. She told Dean he might be released after another two weeks. Dean tried not to give her that annoyed look. He’d been in the center for two weeks already and it felt like years.

It was Saturday when Sammy came visiting him. His little brother was sitting in one of the visitor rooms waiting for him.

“Heya Sammy!” Dean greeted him.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice was still quite high although he really started growing. He met Dean in a crushing hug.

“If you keep growing like that, you’ll be taller than me.”

“I hope so. Then you have to call me big brother.”

Dean laughed.

“Never gonna happen, Sasquatch.”

“How are you, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean smiled reassuringly, his face moving like programmed.

“I manage. More important: How are you?”

“We won the game last week. Bela said it was luck but even she must see that we’re just better than her boyfriend’s team. Charlie and Jo and their group have been cheerleading, that’s been kinda cool.”

Sam’s mood darkened.

“Dad didn’t come.”

Dean averted his gaze.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been there.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean.”

Dean looked up at that.

“But I’m supposed to be there for you.”

“Yes, but not all the time. You’re not supposed to me my dad. That’s Dad’s role. It’s not your fault that he’s not a good father.”

“Cut it out, Sam!” Dean warned.

“He’s grieving.”

Sam glared at him, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“So, neglecting his children is okay? We lost our mom, too, Dean. It’s not like she was just Dad’s wife.”

“I know, Sam. Believe me, I know. I’m just saying that...”

“That what? That being drunk is taking care of his sons? That you faking his signature so I can go to class trips is supposed to happen?”

Dean didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry.”

“Just get out of here, soon. I have got to introduce you to someone.”

“What, you’ve got a crush?”

Sam’s face went red. “No!”

Dean smirked.

“What’s her name?”

Sam mumbled something Dean couldn’t understand.

“Just remember, safe sex, Sammy. And clean up after you.”

“Dean, you’re gross!”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They talked a little more. About their neighbors. About school. About whether Led Zeppelin or Celine Dion were better (obviously Zep was better, that Titanic chick wasn’t even competition but Sam just wouldn’t see it). Basically about everything but their family or the incident that got Dean into jail  (well, juvie) .

Dean hugged Sam good-bye and told him he’d be out in two weeks, then his little brother was gone.

Spending day after day in an entirely grey environment, even the bright orange of their inmate overalls became dull. Dean started to daydream about colors, birds, a good sandwich. He missed the wrappers of those treats the small children would always eat on Halloween. There had been one year where he’d switched the treats with mayonnaise fudge. It had been a mess to make but Sam’s face was totally worth it. He still kept some treats just to remind Sam of that embarrassing moment.

The next Sunday Dean already expected to meet Castiel. He sat in the chapel when he finally spotted the  priest . He was slightly limping as he came toward Dean,  sitting down beside him.

“It’s nice to see you, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. What happened to your leg?”

Castiel shrugged it off. “I’m a little clumsy. I fell down the stairs.”

“Ouch. Sorry, man.”

“It’ll go away. I’m lucky it’s just my leg.”

“Sam came visiting yesterday.”

“Your brother is a good kid.”  
“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “Yeah, he is. You know, I was defending him.”

When Castiel didn’t say anything, Dean continued.

“He’s been bullied for quite a while, now. I didn’t know. I found out when I was picking him up from school. Those older d-bags were about to punch the crap out of him. I intervened. Two of them had to stay in hospital, the others got the message. Nobody messes with my brother. Unfortunately they had the better attorneys.”

“I appreciate that you’re talking to me, Dean. It’ll help you.”

Dean nodded. “I guess. I hope I can get out in two weeks.”

“That would be nice.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Castiel smiled. “Go ahead.”

“How old are you?”  
The father chuckled. “I’m twenty-six. I’ve been ordained half a year ago.”

“Why’d you choose to work with screw-ups like me?”  
Castiel became serious again.

“You’re not a screw-up, Dean. And beside that, I believe that everybody deserves to be saved.”

“Must be nice, being so sure about something.”

Castiel looked at Dean.

“I am far from sure. I just have faith that God will guide and protect me.”

“Whatever. They’re getting us for dinner, soon. Seeya on Wednesday, Cas.”

Dean stood up and waved at Castiel before turning around and exiting the chapel. He felt the  father ’s gaze on him until the door closed and sep a rated them.

When Dean got out of the facility November was already coming to an end. He had spent all of it inside those walls and was now more than eager to get out. The last two weeks hadn’t been as bad as the first two. Maybe it was because he’d become friends with Meg and also with Castiel. Maybe it was because of the promise he gave Sammy.

He’d only been in one more fight after a guy, not older than Sam, tried to steal his cigarettes (Dean didn’t even smoke, but hell, in jail you could trade them just like money). No question he’d felt the need to set his territory. A day solitary was  totally  worth it.

Dean was packing all his stuff (it wasn’t a lot, just some pieces of paper for school, some drawings, said illegal cigarettes) when there was a knock at his cell door. He turned around just to find Meg grinning at him.

“So, you’re getting out, Ken doll?”

“I guess. It’s been long enough.”

Meg just nodded.

“I got to stay another month.”

“Head up, girl. I’m gonna come visit.”

She laughed. “Oh, please, don’t!”

“Seriously, if there’s a problem just call me, I’ll be there.”

Meg sobered up. “Will do,  Dean-o .”

Dean hugged her good-bye, gave her the cigarettes and then he was gone, out of that thing. It had only been a month but it had been long enough. He got some more stuff from the office, did some paper work, promised Carlson not to get into trouble and then he was truly free.

Dean just exited the juvie through the front door when he heard someone calling his name.

“Hey, Cas. Didn’t think you could make it,” he greeted the pastor.

“I wanted to say good-bye, Dean. You’ve been pleasant company,” Castiel answered, still a little out of breath from running after Dean.

“I hope our friendship will not stop here. My doors are always open for you.”

“Thanks. Good to hear that. I might stop by.”

“Take care of yourself.”

Dean smiled. “You too. Don’t fall down the stairs again.”

Was it just his imagination, or was there a shadow rushing over Castiel’s face, gone in just a blink of an eye? He mentally shrugged it off. The man was counseling in a facility full of criminal juveniles, no way he was n’t in a bad mood sometimes.

“Seeya, Cas.”  
He waved him and now nothing and no-one was holding him back to breathe in the scent of freedom that had been gone way too long for Dean’s taste.

It was a cold Sunday afternoon and Dean was pretty sure he knew where to find his family. His father was sitting at the kitchen table,  a bottle of cheap whiskey standing in front of him, the lid missing. His old man didn’t show any sign of having heard his son as Dean entered the apartment, shouting: “I’m home!”

A door at the far end of a small hallway flew open and Sam  came into view beaming happily.

“See?” Dean said. “Toldya I’d be coming.”

“How do you talk to girls, Dean?”

Dean’s face broke into a smirk. “So, there actually is a girl!”

“Her name’s Jessica. She’s gorgeous and beautiful and smart and sometimes, when she’s laughing, her eyes sparkle and that’s really cute and...”

“Breathe, Sammy, breathe. Lemme put my duffle into my room and I’ll see if I can help you.”

He grinned and made a beeline to his room throwing his bag onto his bed while singing under his breath.

“Sammy and Jessica, sitting on a tree.”

“Stop it, Dean!”

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Shut up!” Sam yelled, voice cracking with anger.

“Alright, kiddo, relax.”

Dean popped his head into Sam’s room and found his little brother sitting on his bed, face still red.

“Okay, what exactly do you wanna know?”

He sat down next to Sam and folded his hands behind his head.

“How do you talk to them? Like, without stammering and getting all red and tripping over my feet and stuff.”

Dean grinned.

“You gotta have confidence, Sammy. Really, it’s all about being trusting yourself. If you’re sure you can get her, then you can get her.”

“Yeah, but how? How do you flirt with Carmelita, or Lisa, or Jo?”

“First of all, I don’t flirt with all of them.”

Sam gave him one of his bitch-faces and Dean felt himself giving in.

“Okay, maybe I do flirt with all of them but it’s all about complimenting them. Tell them you like their eyes, they’re crazy for stuff like that. Or their necklace, if she has one. But don’t overdo it, that just makes you sound like a dick. Why d’you ask now?”

Sam didn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m sort of meeting her, like, this evening.”

He became quieter to the end of the sentence.

“You’re kidding, right?” Dean asked.

“We’re just going to the movies.”

“You both got school tomorrow.”

Sam nodded. “I know, I’ll be home by ten and I’ll get out of bed no matter what.”

Dean sighed. “Alright. Just… talk to me next time, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you, Dean.”

Sam hugged his brother and reluctantly Dean reciprocated the embrace.

“Don’t mention it. Now enough of this, huggy bear, I gotta take a good long shower, I stink like I haven’t bathed in years.”

Showering was such a bliss. Dean let the hot water run down his back and he sighed in  satisfaction as it washed away the feeling of being filthy. At least to a certain degree. After all the shampoo and soap were gone he just kept standing there enjoying the hot water and the steam and just everything.

Way too soon he had to turn off the water and after he’d settled in with more comfortable clothes he went to the kitchen to check on his father. John was still sitting there staring into thin air not noticing his surroundings.

“Dad? Hey, uhm, it’s been a while. I’m back, you know.”

No answer. Dean sighed and turned the TV on. His father’s gaze went to the screen for a second before becoming blank again. Dean hated it.

He made himself, Sam and his dad a sandwich and watched the news while digging into his food (real food, this time. Not that crap back at the juvie).

After that, he watched as Sam took his bike to the theater. His brother promised once again to be home  by ten. Dean smiled and watched him go. Sammy was thirteen and growing up. It hurt a little but he was also proud.  _Go get that chick, Sasquatch._

The next morning was a bitch. Dean had gone to bed after Sam  had come home but it had taken long until he had eventually found a way to lure his mind into sleep. Thoughts had just kept running through his head, some of them having to do with a certain dark haired  priest . Was Cas alright? He had looked a little tired when they’d said good-bye that afternoon. To shut his thoughts up Dean decided to check up on him the following day.

School wasn’t really good. Dean hadn’t been the most popular kid but he’d had friends, he had people he talked to occasionally, he had those he nodded hello to when they met in the corridors and those who didn’t really care about him (mutual) but didn’t hate him, either.

This was different, though. When he entered the building he was shot cold glances, freshmen were  giving him a wide berth, people were starting to talk. When the teachers were calling out the students’ names they would all pause at his name and give him that calculating look as if they feared he’d jump onto his table and started shooting everybody. It was a nightmare.

His only friends left were Kevin, Benny and Charlie. At lunch they sat at the table and Dean was filling them in on the most important stuff (like, getting into fights, having more or less kept up with school and how the food in jail sucked) when a group of boys approached their table.

That was the other bad thing about being released from detention center. He was getting attention from the wrong people.

“So, heard you made quite a fuss, Winchester.”

Dean tried to ignore the sneering voice.

“The way I see it, you and I could be good friends, don’t you think?”

God, how he hated that Scottish accent.

“I could need somebody like you, Dean. So, I’m making you a one-time offer. Stick with me and I share thirty percents of my winnings with you.”

Everybody knew Crowley was dealing with illegal stuff. Everybody also knew he was earning some good money with it. It annoyed the hell out of Dean because, honestly, he was certainly no angel, but making a deal with a demon? Even he wasn’t that stupid.

“Crowley, why don’t you take your one-time offer and stick it where the sun don’t shine? ‘Cause my friends and I are trying to eat here, and I’d rather not be disturbed.”

“As you wish, Squirrel. Just remember, you might need me one day. Can’t say I won’t tell you how you sent me away. Well, however, enjoy your lunch.”

And he was gone. Dean felt the tension in his shoulders fall and relaxed. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t recognized he had been holding and turned back to his friends. Kevin was looking at him wide-eyed, the others smiled and started talking about an algebra class test. Dean was glad about the distraction.

By  the end of the day, Dean already dreaded the next day of school. With everyone treating him like he got the plague school was even less fun than it had been before the incident. At 3  p m he finally packed his books and pencil case an d l eft. He hadn’t forgotten about visiting Cas, so he threw his bag onto the backseat of his father’s old Chevy (this car was just… he loved it) and followed his phone’s instructions to the address the  priest  had told him before they had parted.

The church was really small, just a little bigger than the chapel where he’d first met Cas yet felt to be so much more. The walls were neat and colored in a light grey tone while the door was made of wood and rather dark. It seemed to radiate power but also comfort. It was a strange thing, really. Dean parked his car and stepped on holy ground.

He could easily spot Castiel, his hair a dark spot in front of the light grey of the walls. As Dean strode through the benches he made sure to cough, just to make sure he wasn’t startling the father.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was deep and gravelly as always. He turned around and smiled warmly at the boy.

“Hello, Cas. Toldya I’d be there.”

Castiel just nodded and turned back to the altar. He carefully placed a Bible there, one of the old ones with the fancy handlettering and pictures.

“So, what do you have on your mind, Dean?”

Dean jumped.

“What?”  
Castiel closed the book and sat down next to Dean, eyes locking with him with an intensity that caught the teenager’s breath.

“You’re tense. You’ve got something on your mind.”  
Dean sighed.

“I didn’t know it was that bad. Like, I knew that I would have a bad reputation after what everybody’s been saying about me while I was away. But I never thought I’d be that… lonely.”

He whispered the last word, averting his eyes, shame creeping up his body making him blush.

Castiel nodded.

“That’s a way to put it. Sometimes people just see what they want to see. There are plenty of stories in the Bible where people believe outsiders to be rude and heretical just for Jesus to show them that those outsiders are kind people.”

“I wish I had faith like you. Something I can believe in.”

Castiel chuckled.

“You should read the Bible, Dean. It’s very inspiring.”

Dean shrugged.

“Maybe.”

Dean started visiting Castiel more often. After school, he would make a beeline for his home, make sure Sam was safe and his father was okay and head out to meet Castiel. Sometimes he would help him with taking care of the church. Sometimes they would just talk. Dean was far from getting religious but Castiel had something that drew the teenager to him like a moth was drawn to a flame.

“You know, other people enjoy the snow outside,” he greeted the priest when he entered the church. Castiel looked tired. There were bags under his eyes and his head was hanging low.

“Cas, you okay?”

Dean rushed over to his friend’s side, holding out a hand when the father swayed.

“Thank you Dean, I’m fine.”

Dean didn’t believe him but dropped the subject anyway. If Castiel didn’t want to talk about it that was his good right.

“You ever had a good snowball fight?” Dean asked instead, his voice light.

Castiel blushed slightly and shook his head.

“What? Never?”

“No. There never seemed to be the time.”  
Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand.

“Well, it’s about damn time!”

The wet, cold ball hit him in the face causing Dean to lose sight for a moment until he had wiped the snow from his face.

“Sonofabitch, that was a good one!”

He scooped some snow from the ground while dodging another of Castiel’s missiles. He ran after the father, grabbed his coat and rubbed the snow into his neck where the collar wouldn’t cover the skin. Castiel jumped and froze and fought to get Dean off him. And he kind of lost his balance and fell but grabbed onto Dean’s jacket. Dean wasn’t prepared for that, so they both hit the ground and lay next to each other in the snow, panting, the cold biting their faces.

Dean turned his head to look at Castiel. Snowflakes were caught in his dark lashes, his blue eyes so vibrant they made the sky look pale. The pastor’s cheeks were red from the cold and the excitement, his chapped lips slightly parted so he could catch his breath and all Dean could think was _damn, he_ ’s _beautiful!_

It wasn’t that Dean was totally shocked, he’d found out about him liking dudes a year ago when he and Sam had been in summer camp (a way for their father to not having to care for them). At that time Dean had thought there was only straight and gay until redhead Charlie had convinced him otherwise. She was very much like a sister to him. She bonded with Sam pretty quickly which wasn’t a surprise as both of them were nerds and clever and booklovers and all that. There was also that thing that Charlie was into girls. There was one thing that she’d said one evening that still lingered in Dean’s thoughts from time to time.  _There’s never just black and white. Straight and gay. You can be into both of them._ And she’d been very right. Not that Dean would ever tell anyone. He wasn’t sure how people would react.

Anywho, during that camp he met that cute guy who liked the woods and maybe they ended up making out that one night. Dean was afraid anyone could find out but it didn’t matter because they’d never changed numbers and he’d never met him again. His name’d been Dave, though. He remembered that name.

No, him being (secretly) bi wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the dude he seemed to like was nine years older and a friggin’ _priest_. He’d probably be thrown into Hell for only _thinking_ stuff like that. Not to mention that Cas and him were both guys.

“Dean?”

The deep, gravelly voice brought him back to reality. No doubt the father had caught him staring and Dean tried to hide his embarrassment by getting up and wiping the snow from his pants. He then extended a hand to Castiel who still lay on the ground watching Dean.

“You don’t wanna lie there for too long or you gonna get sick,” he said and hauled the preacherman to his feet.

Dean had miscalculated his weight, though and Castiel’s momentum shoved him back into Dean who stumbled but kept himself upright.

“Jesus, Cas, never thought you’d be such a lightweight.”

“Don’t take His name in vain, Dean.”

The teenager ducked away.

“Sorry.”

The corner of Castiel’s mouth twitched. Dean wondered what they would feel like on his skin. Warm, maybe soft. _Cut it out!_

“I … uh, gotta go. Sammy’s waiting, so… Seeya, Cas!”

Dean turned around and practically ran to his car, seeking the Impala’s safety. _Very smooth, Winchester._

Dean didn’t visit Cas for a week after that. They were two weeks into December when he couldn’t resist the urge to see the father again. But when he entered the church he found it to be empty. No priest, no believers seeking forgiveness or what they did when they came to church.

“Cas?” His voice echoed from the building’s acoustic. “You here?”

The wooden door closed behind him.

“Hello, Dean.”  
The boy turned around and his snarky remark stuck in his throat. Castiel had always been quite pale but this time it was even worse. He seemed to be thin as well and Dean couldn’t help but worry.

“Cas, are you alright?”  
A kind, sad smile responded to that question.

“I have to tell you something. You might want to sit down.”

Dean didn’t hide his confusion but sat down on one of the benches anyway. Castiel came closer, flinching slightly when he put weight on his left foot.

“You fell down the stairs again?” Dean asked warily.

“I’m fine. You don’t look good, either. You got into a fight.”

Dean sighed.

“As I said, do something wrong and you get the wrong kind of attention. It’ll heal.”

Castiel sat next to him but fell quiet. He seemed to be off, his hand was fidgeting ever so slightly. The priest nervously cleared his throat before muttering under his breath something that sounded like _Father, give me strength_. It just added to Dean’s confusion. Castiel turned to Dean but didn’t look him in the eye, just faced his slender hands instead.

“Dean, what I am going to tell you I have never told anyone else before. Whatever your reaction is I would appreciate if you didn’t share it with other people.”

“Shit, Cas, you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”

The father sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture Dean would do whenever he tried to fight away a headache.

“Do you remember our conversations in detention center?”  
Dean nodded.

“You asked me whether I really believe in God and Heaven and I told you that after the past I had you have to start believing.”

“I guess you did.”

“I was at war, Dean. I went when I was, well, even younger than now, a little older than you. We were sent right to the frontline. They used the young, naive ones as cannon fodder. I despised religion back then but wanted to do my part for America, feeling patriotic and everything. I watched my friends and comrades die. I got caught by the enemy and after they tortured me for days they made me an offer.”

Castiel paused, still avoiding Dean’s eye. Dean was still not certain which direction this story was going.

“You don’t have to tell me, you know.”

“No, Dean, I do. Because if you want to stay my friend you need to know. But I would understand if you don’t want to talk to me afterwards.”

There was another pause before the father continued.

“You need to know that I was very good with guns. I was the best in my garrison. I rarely missed. The enemy knew that. And they offered to spare my life if I killed and tortured for them. And selfish and naive as I was, agreed. They opened the restrains, tended my wounds, gave me clean clothes, something to eat and an order. I had to find one of my friends and bring him to my new boss.”

Dean was glued to Castiel’s lips. He knew it was probably not the right way to react but Castiel had a way with words that filled the story with life, with pain.

“I did. And after I found Balthazar I tortured him until my colonel allowed me to stop. I was merciful then, and killed my friend.”

Dean felt like he had been stabbed in the back.

“You don’t do that to family.”  
Castiel’s face was marred with haunted expressions, unshed tears shining in his eyes.

“Dean, please, let me finish first.”

The teenager shut up and the father continued.

“My boss then wanted me to find Balthazar’s family and kill them as well. I did as he promised me my freedom, my life in exchange for my loyalty. But I didn’t know Balthazar had a child. A son, barely two years old. I couldn’t do it. I spared him and brought him to another woman. Then I ran.”

“They found me a week later and beat me until I was half dead. I lay on the dark street, wishing I had died, unable to move until a monk found me and brought me to his monastery. He healed me and taught me about faith and God. I dedicated my life to Him because I had to start somewhere. My whole life is not enough to do penance for the sins I have comitted.”

Castiel fell silent. Dean’s head was spinning from all the information.

“Now you know everything about me.”

Dean didn’t respond. The Castiel in the story was not the man he knew. It was hard to imagine him killing anybody. But if it was true, if Castiel had killed a close friend of his..

“Dean, say something, please.”

Dean swallowed nervously.

“I gotta go. I’m sorry.”  
Castiel didn’t stop him.

Dean came home soon. Sam was in his room doing homework and his dad was sitting in front of the TV watching sports although Dean seriously doubted that he was actually seeing any of it. The bottle of liquor stood next to the armchair where he could easily reach it. It was half empty.

“Sammy, I’m home!”

His little brother popped his head in to say hi but stopped as soon as he saw Dean.

“Jeez, what happened to you?”  
Dean shrugged. _Nothing really. The_ _man_ _I like actually tortured and killed his own friend and family._

“Just had a little argument with Cas.”

It wasn’t even close to the truth but right now he couldn’t care less about acting against the God-laws, or however they would call them.

“It’s going to be okay,” Sam tried to ensure Dean.

“Thanks, Sammy, I guess it will.”

He didn’t believe it, though.

Dean would never admit that he was lonely but apparently he was. School was being worse every day as nobody forgot about what he (supposedly) had done. The rumours would’ve been funny if Dean wasn’t the one receiving the disgust and hate from all the other students and teachers. According to a freshman he had stolen a gun and shot two other students. He’d heard another boy say he’d strangled three children to death. His favorite one was the one where he had joined a satanist sect and had robbed a bank in order to pay the supplies for their dark rituals. Yeah, school was crap.

He had thought about Castiel a lot. About the hurt in those blue eyes and the way the father had confided his past to him. But he’d killed his own friend. Dean tried to imagine what it would be like to kill Charlie. Or Sam. He just couldn’t. No way he’d ever do anything like that.

He knew that Cas had tried to reach him. Once Sam came home from school carrying a letter that Dean threw behind his bed without opening. His name had been written on it with the small, neat handwriting he knew from the sermon Castiel had been preparing some days prior.

One time Castiel stood next to his car when he came from school. Dean turned around and went the other direction, deciding that going into a bookstore was very much worth it if it meant that Cas wouldn’t try to talk to him.

Christmas was getting closer. There was another week until Jesus’ birthday when Charlie called him.

“Okay, listen Dean, we’re going to have this super cool party tonight and I know you’re free, so don’t try to find excuses, you’re coming.”

Dean could imagine the redhead sitting on her bed excitedly while trying to convince Dean to come and have some fun. Charlie had sensed that something was wrong from the way Dean texted. Or didn’t text.

“Alright, chuckles, I’ll be there. But only to make you shut up about it.”

“I’ll expect you at ten.”

Dean also considered asking Meg for advice but on second view that was a very bad idea. He wondered how the petite girl was doing. He knew he couldn’t keep all his confusing emotions locked away forever but who could he talk to?

When Dean arrived at Charlie’s he was sure he was going to throw up. He really, _really_ didn’t want to go. The other guests were already there and looked like they had the time of their lives. Kevin looked like he didn’t want to be there either so Dean decided he was good company. Charlie was dancing and came by to hug him.

“Hey, Dean. You’re late.”

Dean hugged her close and nodded.

“I wanted to enjoy the silence as long as I could before coming here.”

She let go of him and smiled brightly.

“I have no idea who half of these people are but, hey, we’re having fun, right?”

Dean chuckled.

“You go, Charlie, I’ll stay here with Kevin.”

Charlie shrugged and went back to dancing with a dark haired girl.

“I brought you a beer, brother.”

“Thanks, Benny.”

The boy from Louisiana smiled.

“Thought you could use it. I don’t have a lot of time. I’m meeting Andrea.”

Dean patted him on the back.

“Good for you, buddy. Go get your girl.”

“But Dean, I do have to ask. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

Benny nodded but didn’t leave.

“You know that I got your back, right?”

“I know. Thanks, Benny.”

“Sure thing, brother.”

He watched Benny meet the Greek beauty at the other end of the room. He watched as his friend gave her a shy kiss. And then Dean thought of the one person he really wanted to be near right now. Not that that was possible.

Charlie rushed past Dean, that dark haired girl in tow. He could only imagine what they were doing but he stopped his mind right there. Kevin had found a shy Asian girl to talk to about … whatever nerds talked about which left Dean alone in the room. He sighed and decided now was the right time to really get drunk.

The perks of going to other people’s parties was that the booze technically was their fault. So, if Dean drank alcohol he couldn’t be blamed. At least that made sense after … enough beers. He was slightly swaying and maybe he also kind of stumbled over his own feet. Fact was he almost bumped into a guy.

“Sorry,” he slurred and turned around to find the exit, hoping the cold air would sober him up just enough for not puking on anybody. It was embarrassing enough.

“No problem,” the guy said and turned around. When he saw Dean he froze.

“Dude, you okay?”

The guy blinked. He seemed oddly familiar but maybe it was the alcohol talking.

“Dean?”

Finally, it clicked.

“Dave?”

The guy nodded enthusiastically.

“I thought, hey I know that face. How’ve you been?”

Dean smiled and suddenly he was in a conversation. They walked outside as Dave had had some beers as well. Dean sighed contentedly when the cold wind hit his face.

“So, what’ve you done in the year after the camp?”

Dave smiled.

“I finished school and now I’m at college.”

“Really? Never thought you were a bookworm.”  
“Nah, Imma become a P.E. teacher.”

Dean laughed. “Nice. Good for you.”

Dave nodded and looked at the younger boy with a thoughtful face.

“What’ve you done? How’s that little brother of your’s?”

“Sammy’s fine, I guess. He’s got himself a girlfriend. They’re really cute. All sappy, cliché romantic relationship stuff. And I… get by.”

Dave frowned but didn’t push.

“And? You got a guy?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“Nah. I’m free. You?”

Dean nodded. There was a strange, uneasy feeling in his gut, like he’d eaten concrete. When he looked up Dave was only mere inches away from him. His pupils were blown, with lust or just the alcohol Dean couldn’t tell. When he didn’t back away, Dave tilted his head slightly and sealed Dean’s lips with his.

The kiss wasn’t passionate. Dean tasted the beer on the other guy’s lips when his tounge darted out. Dave was pressing him back against the house wall, his hands tugging at Dean’s shirt. It was wrong. It was twisted. Dean didn’t know why, Dave was cute but he just wasn’t _Cas_.

His eyes snapped open. He hadn’t just thought that. Never. _Shit!_ He definitely had. Dean quietly broke the kiss and grabbed Dave’s wrists to stop him from taking his shirt off.

He looked the other man in the eye. They were blue with grey spots in them but Castiel’s eyes were more blue. More intense. More… everything.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, man.”

The young man was clearly hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Dean shook his head.

“You didn’t. I did.”

Then, “I’m sorry.”

And he stormed off.

Dean didn’t talk to Sam when he came home. He just rushed past his father and the TV and slammed the bathroom door shut. After he splashed water into his face he took a look in the mirror. He didn’t really like what he saw. Sure, he was what people would call handsome. But there were freckles all over his face. Whenever his face turned into either a tomato or an ice cube those little spots would stand out like rainbow sprinkles on a chocolate cake.

Dean decided that just splashing water into his face wasn’t enough. So he stripped and took a long, cold shower. It sobered him up but didn’t stop his thoughts. They still circled around the dark haired priest with those vibrant, gorgeous blue eyes. Had he just called Father Castiel Novak _gorgeous_? Gosh, he was in _so_ much trouble!

He should’ve known that Sam would be waiting for him.

“Sam, stay out of my room.”

His little brother crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned his head expectantly.

“Only after you tell me what the _hell_ is going on with you.”

Dean uttered something between a sigh and a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I really am not in the mood right now, so _get lost_.”

“I’m your brother, Dean, and I don’t know if you noticed but you look like crap. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Sam …”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

Dean sighed once again.

“Alright, scoot over.”  
He groaned and his hands fidgeted as he tried to come up with any way of getting out of this situation without talking to his brother. But there was none.

“What would you think of me if I was forced to torture and kill someone I’m really close to, like Charlie for example?”

Sam gulped.

“Uhm… I would forgive you. Wait, did someone threaten you?”  
Dean smiled sadly at the horror in Sam’s eyes.

“No, Sammy, it’s alright. But, supposedly, why would you forgive me?”  
Sam didn’t even have to think before he answered.

“You were forced. There was nothing else you could’ve done. Don’t get me wrong I would be angry as hell and sad and disappointed. But I would forgive you eventually.”  
“Why?”

“You’re a good person. And you are my brother and I love you.”  
Dean shook his head and let himself fall back on his bed.

“I’m not a good person.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Sam, I was in prison.”

“But only because some douchebags were bullying me.”  
Dean sighed.

“Doesn’t make a difference, ya know? I could’ve stopped. I should’ve stopped. But I kept on beating them. There was such a rage inside me. Smashing their faces just felt so _good._ ”  
He hadn’t intended to tell Sam any of this but the words kept coming and it felt almost like a confession. Dean sighed and buried his head in his hands.

“I’m gonna meet him tomorrow.”

“Who?”

Okay, maybe Dean had forgotten that Sam was still listening.

“Nobody, Sasquatch. Now go and get some sleep, it’s one in the morning and I wanna get up early tomorrow.”

It was the last Sunday before Christmas when Dean entered the little church he’d spent so many afternoons of the last month in. His heart was beating so furiously in his chest, making him fear that the force might rip it out. Everybody must’ve been able to hear it. He quietly entered the church and took a seat in the last bench.

Castiel looked strikingly handsome with his tousled hair and the dark slacks and shirt, the white collar sticking out from the dark fabric. His blue eyes seemed to glow when he started to talk in that deep, gravelly voice of his. Dean found once again that he soaked it all in. The sermon, the prayers, everything. He was enthralled by the way Castiel preached. By the end he might have at least a little faith. He still dreaded the moment it was over and there’d be nobody but him and the father.

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat when Castiel’s blue eyes looked directly at him, into his very soul. They widened with recognition before he turned to look at the other believers. Dean felt disappointment settling deep inside him.

He was alone in the church staring at the dark figure turning off the lights. Dean reached out to grab him but Castiel turned around and gave him a blank look.

“If you don’t mind, I have another service to plan.”

He tried to move past Dean but the teenager was faster.

“Cas, I’m sorry.”  
The father looked at him, bloodshot eyes deep-set, dark circles around them creating a high contrast to the peaked white skin.

“You are forgiven.”

He then passed Dean and exited the church, not waiting for Dean to follow him.

Dean tried to reach Cas for three more days without any reply. It was as if Castiel had decided that not talking to him would wipe his memory clear. School had been a bitch before but now Dean wasn’t even able to try and concentrate. He couldn’t focus on his teachers or his friends. He got drunk on the last day of school with Christmas being only two days away. Dean shoved his school supplies into the furthest corner of his room and stole his father’s bottle of whiskey. The old man didn’t seem to mind.

He sat at the kitchen table staring at the wall when Sam came home.

“Hey Dean, guess who’s coming over for Christmas?”

His little brother stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Dean in that pathetic, miserable state.

“What happened to you?”  
Dean gestured vaguely.

“Got rejected.”

Sam huffed.

“That sucks.”

Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, it does.”

Sam frowned.

“Are you drunk?”

“And?”

“Dean, you’re seventeen.”

“And?”

Sam snatched the bottle from Dean’s hands and flushed the amber liquid down the sink. Dean tried to protest but his brother wouldn’t have any of it.

“You suck.”  
Sam sighed.

“Go and sleep and pray you don’t have a hangover tomorrow. We’ll talk later.”

“Whatever.”

Dean somehow managed to reach his room and fell into his bed. He was instantly asleep.

He woke with a strange sensation of warmth lingering right outside his reach. The image of blue eyes faded slowly. Then his headache kicked in.

The first thing Dean did once he was fully awake was puke his guts out. His skin was hot and sweaty and his head was throbbing like hell and he was feeling like he was gonna die any second. Maybe the bottle of whiskey hadn’t been the best of his ideas.

“You feel better?”

“Screw you, bitch.”  
Sam smiled smugly.

“I’m not the one hugging the toilet.”  
“Shuddup!”

Dean decided to stay in and spend his day on his bed thinking about his greatest failures, like not being able to protect Sam or pushing Cas away. When had he turned into the kind of person his little brother had to take care of? Dean didn’t want to be like his father. He mostly thought about Cas, though. He wore a pair of jeans, a black tee and a flannel but only because Sam had forced him to. Otherwise he‘d still be wearing his pajamas.

**C: Hey** **boi** **, what’s up?**

Dean blinked at the message.

**D:** **hey charlie,** **feelin** **kinda** **crappy** **, why?**

**C: Care to share?**

**D: not really**

He closed his eyes for a second, listening to the beep his phone made when Charlie replied.

**C: You’re not getting out of this. You’re acting strange.**

She really wasn’t going to leave it. Dean sighed deeply before answering.

**D:** **i screwed up**

**C: Really? Tell me something new.**

**D: i hurt someone i care about**

**C: You’re not having another bi-crisis, are you? >:(**

**D: no?**

**C: Get your head out of your ass and tell him already.**

**D:** **i** **can’t**

**C: ‘Course you can, dumbass. Just quit whining.**

Dean tossed his phone against the wall and with a thud it slid down the wall and behind his bed. He groaned. This sucked. All of it sucked. It was close to Christmas and his dad was oblivious to everything going on around him, his brother was bringing his girlfriend and he was pining for a guy he couldn’t have.

Dean groaned once again and pinched the bridge of his nose to fight the headache. He then slipped his arm into the dark ravine between his bed and the wall feeling for his phone.

His hand touched a piece of paper. With a frown Dean grabbed it and took a closer look. It was a simple envelope, the edges were crumpled but the handwriting was still readable. The small, clean letters made Dean’s heart beat faster. He’d totally forgotten about the letter Sam had brought home the other day. Knowing he would only increase his heartache he opened it and began to read.

_Dear Dean,_

_I don’t know how to start this letter, knowing that you no longer show interest in socializing with me. That is a choice I have to respect and I will. There is just one more thing I have to get off my chest before I will leave your life for good._

_I have lived in a long struggle with myself ever since God found me. The sins I have committed weigh so much that I sometimes feel like I don’t have the strength to carry on. There is nothing that can forgive what I have done and I will have to do penance for as long as I live._

_When I met you at the juvenile detention center I was not aware that you would make me feel like I belong. You make me feel like I am more than a murderer, a sinner. You make me feel appreciated. I have grown to enjoy your company far more than is appropriate for a celibate man._

_I am afraid that you are tempting me into sinning as I keep thinking of you. I have never confessed to another person than the Lord himself and I feel uncomfortable doing it now as I break the rules I have obeyed for so long. I feel something I have only ever felt for God. As much as it terrifies me, Dean, I am yours._

_I can understand if you are not interested in meeting me again. May God guide you on your path, Dean._

_May He bless you._

_Forever yours, Castiel_

There was a quiet swoosh as the paper fell to the floor. Dean stood in one motion his eyes shining with unshed tears. A hand of ice had gripped his heart and he hurried to pull on his shoes.

“Sammy, I’m going out!”

He didn’t wait for his brother to answer, just opened the door and ran into the evening, oblivious to the cold.

Dean didn’t stop, his feet hitting the ground as he sped up, running almost blindly, his heart beating furiously in his chest, three words repeating themselves in his head until they were interrupted by another, more terrifying sentence. _He likes me. He likes me. He likes me._ _Oh God, he’s going to do something stupid._

Dean reached the church in no time and tore the old wooden doors open. The wind ushered him inside and the boy shut the doors to keep out the cold. But the church itself was far from warm. Dean’s breath created little clouds in the air as he walked down the aisle. He couldn’t see a thing as the lights were turned off. Once he reached the altar Dean turned to his right and stopped dead in his tracks.

A skinny figure knelt in front of a wooden cross, the pale skin almost glowing against the darkness surrounding him. He was only wearing a pair of boxers and shivered in the cold. He was rocking back and forth slightly, head bowed down, whispering quietly. As Dean stepped closer he started to hear a strained voice pleading.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned...”

He knew that voice. He knew that person. Dean’s eyes had adjusted to the dark and when he saw those angry red scars marring Castiel’s back he couldn’t stop himself from gasping.

A loud whipping sound cut through the air and caused Dean to jump. Skin tore open, blood staining the scourge. The priest bit back a sob but Dean could still hear it, his eyes widening in horror. He rushed to his friend’s side and fell to his knees next to him, grabbing Castiel’s wrist to stop him from hurting himself even more.

“Cas, what are you doin’, man?”

His voice was weaker than he thought it would be.

“Let me go,” the priest whispered, his eyes unfocused, darting from left to right and back again.

“So you can whip yourself to death? No way!”

“You don’t understand!” Castiel cried and clawed at Dean’s hand, willing him to let go.

“I’ve sinned, I need to be punished, I deserve to be punished, I – – ” He sounded desperate, helpless.

“Cas, it’s me, Dean. Please, look at me.”  
  


When Castiel finally looked up, Dean stopped breathing. His friend looked like death, his face marred by sorrow, pain and self-loathing, sickly pale, his eyes almost hidden by the shadows in the sockets.

“Cas, goddammit, why’re you doin’ this to yourself?”

“Dean?”

Dean stopped fighting the tears and pulled Cas into a crushing hug. He shivered when the father’s cold body touched his shirt but didn’t back down. Castiel winced and groaned against Dean’s shoulder. The boy looked at him closely when he spotted a sparkling band around the left thigh pressing against his.

“Cas, what the hell…?”

He slightly touched the thin metal chains and was horrified by the sound of Cas’ wimpering.

“Is that – – ”

“A cilice, yes.”  
The skin beneath the spiked chain was covered with scar tissue that had been wrenched open over and over again, dark red almost like the scars on his back.

“But why?”

Castiel smiled.

“You are beautiful, Dean, do you know that?”

Dean didn’t know what to reply to that but the father didn’t seem to mind. He sighed instead and pressed a kiss into Castiel’s damp hair.

“Why, Cas?”

Thin fingers clung to his shirt, clawing into his back but Dean ignored it.

“I’ve been tempted. I’ve given in to temptation for too long, Dean. When I told you about my past, part of me hoped for you to forgive me still but the other half knew I was headed for a dark path.”

“What’re you talking about?”

Castiel sighed and shifted in Dean’s arms. He could feel how the young priest flinched at every little movement.

“Hey, hey there. Take it easy!”

Dean reinforced his grip on Castiel, trying to keep him from moving and hurting himself even more.

“I’ve been thinking about you, Dean. Sinful thoughts. I wanted to do things I’ve pledged to abjure.”

Castiel’s voice died down until Dean had difficulties understanding him.

“I’ve fallen in love. I’ve deceived God. I’ve broken the Ten Commandments.”

They fell in an awkward silence while Dean tried to think of something to say. When he tried to speak around the lump in his throat his voice was hoarse, barely containing the emotion.

“You told me that He is a merciful, loving god. What kind of god would put a ban on love?”

“You’re not of age, Dean. What kind of monster would I be if I – – ”

“You’re no monster! I’m seventeen, I can decide who I want to be with. There’s nothing illegal about it.”

“Are you not taken aback by being subject of a man’s imagination?”

Dean chuckled.

“Normally, yeah. But not you, Cas. Not you.”  
“I don’t understand. Why would you want to be with somebody like me?”

Dean sighed.

“I – – ”

He shook his head and cradled Castiel close to his chest.

“Come on, it’s freezing. We need to get you to a hospital.”

Castiel was unable to walk himself so Dean picked him up and carried him back to his home and into the Impala. The  pastor was even lighter than he looked and  his ribs protruded from the thin body,  brushing against Dean’s arms . He gently sat Castiel down on the seat, then went to fetch a jacket he  could  cover him with.

When they arrived at the hospital Dean almost had to throw a tantrum until they let him come with Cas. He didn’t leave the  clergyman ’s side, didn’t even let himself get distracted. He only texted Sam that he probably wouldn’t come home any time soon. His brother wished him good luck.

Dean didn’t understand shit of what the doctors and nurses told him about Castiel’s condition. He tried to endure it until the seventeenth  L atin word made him snap.

“Okay, guys, not all of us majored in Medicine, so could you maybe speak English for me?”

The nurse shot  him nervous look  but continued.

“Of course, Mr. Winchester. Your …friend has severe injuries on his back and thigh, some are older, most of them have been inflicted recently, some have been kept from healing on purpose. Furthermore, he’s far from standard weight. I don’t want to jump to conclusions but that does look like anorexia to me.”

Dean gulped.

“You might not be wrong there. God, Cas, what’ve you gotten yourself into?”

He sighed and tried to fight off a headache by pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“He’ll be fine, right?”  
The nurse shifted uncomfortably.

“Probably. See, your friend has sustained malnutrition for a long time. Also, his mental instability might be irretrievable. His body may heal but we can’t be sure his psyche will.”

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. It was late and he was tired but he didn’t want to fall asleep, afraid that Castiel might wake up while he was gone.

He didn’t hear the nurse leave the room. Dean scooted closer to Cas, taking one hand into his own. The difference was obvious. The  pastor ’s thin, bony hand was as pale as his face and stood out against Dean’s darker skin. He gently intertwined their fingers, letting his calloused hand warm the other. Dean pressed his lips on Castiel’s knuckles before settling in for a nap. He didn’t let go of the injured man’s hand, though.

Somebody nutched his side. Dean yawned and stretched, feeling his neck and spine pop. Sleeping on a chair wasn’t comfortable  and he wouldn’t recommend it .

“There you are. I was afraid you’d never wake up again.”

“Shut up, Sam, I’m trying to not be awake.”  
Dean’s eyes flew open.

“What’re you doing here?”

Sam smiled.

“I came looking for my brother, have you seen him? His name’s Dean but he doesn’t answer to it. He’s a big jerk but I still love him and I want him back.”

“Shut up.”

Dean yawned once more while throwing a mock punch at Sam. The boy dodged it  easily before sobering up.

“How’s Cas?”

Dean pointed at the bed. Castiel looked way younger and relaxed while asleep, like the way Dean remembered him from juvie.

“It’s bad. He’s been fasting and beating himself. ‘Twas a real nightmare when I found him.”

Sam nodded.

“You’ve forgiven him.”

That caught Dean by surprise.

“You have, haven’t you?” Sam repeated, now less confident.

“Should’ve known you’d figure it out,” Dean said quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.”  
They sat in silence, Dean watching Castiel’s steady breathing, Sam watching Dean.

“Shit, Sam, I don’t know what to do. I really like him. Like, really. Dammit, I could even imagine living with him, picket fence and pie and, I don’t know, a dog or something. It scares the living crap out of me.”

Dean didn’t look at Sam. He didn’t need to and he was afraid that if he did turn his head, he might start to cry. But Sam was there anyway, scooting closer, shoulders bumping.  His little brother really  was growing  fast.

“Tell him. Be there for him. Getting away from stuff like anorexia is hell. Show him you care.”

Dean smiled sadly.

“How do you know all that stuff?”

Sam shrugged.

“It’s what I would do for Jess if she had a problem like that.”

“You really like her, huh?”  
“Maybe.”

They were interrupted by a sound of fabric brushing against fabric.

“Now go and get your boy, I’ll go and get Jess. See you two at home.”

Sam squeezed Dean’s shoulder in encouragement (honestly, how was a kid like Sam able to behave like a freakin’ grown-up?) and left the room.

Dean rushed to Castiel’s side when the  priest started to stir. He watched as sleepy blue eyes opened and searched for something, before settling in on his face.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. How’re you doin’?”  
Castiel frowned.

“I don’t feel good, to be honest. I am not in pain, though.”

Dean grinned.

“Yeah, that’s the painkillers. They gave you the good stuff.”  
He paused and scratched the back of his neck.

“You really scared me back in the church, man. Don’t do this again.”

Castiel’s face fell.

“I have to atone.”

“You’ve done enough. You don’t need to hurt yourself, Cas.”  
Castiel sighed deeply and averted his eyes.

“I fear God’s wrath.”

Dean warred with himself before gently picking up Cas’ hand once again.

“Well, I don’t know shit about church and God and everything. I don’t believe in Him but I know you do. I also know what you told me. That He is a god of love, mercy and peace.”

Castiel smiled but it looked pained.

“You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Preach to the preacher.”  
“Nah, man, I’m not preaching.”

Cas smiled, one that reached his eyes this time.

“Yes you are, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean swallowed.

“Any time.”  
  


“ I am not happy with the outcome of this discussion.”

“Well, suck it up, dude, I’m not letting you alone right now,” Dean replied harshly. He was pushing Castiel’s wheel chair through the hospital’s entrance and toward the parking lot and his baby. He’d insisted on Cas moving in with him, Sam and his father, so he was able to watch over his friend. Dean had also insisted on getting Cas out of the hospital so he could spend Christmas with them because Christmas in a thin hospital gown on a white bed really sucked.

The ride home was pleasant but uneventful. Dean hummed to Zep on the radio and tapped along on the steering wheel, taking a second or two every now and then to turn his head and look at the preacherman riding shotgun.

Before Dean could reach for the door it was opened with enthusiasm to reveal his little brother and a petite blonde girl.

“Dean! Hey, Cas!”

Sam threw himself at Dean (he’d just been gone for an hour or so, his little brother was making a fuss…) before offering his hand to Castiel.

“I know we’ve met but we were never introduced properly, so… I’m Sam, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Castiel stared at the hand for a second before slowly accepting it.

“Hello, Sam, it’s nice to meet you, too.”

Sam smiled widely and went to fetch the girl who’d been standing next to him, looking a bit lost.

“Dean, Castiel, this is Jessica, she’s my girlfriend.”

Both kids blushed and Dean whistled.

“Nice catch, Sammy.”

“Quit being a jerk, Dean,” Sam scolded, causing Dean to raise his hands in mock defence.

“Alright, alright. Nice to meetya.”

He winked at Jessica and grinned at her blush before leading the way into the house.

The table was laid for six but only five places where occupied. Dean and Cas were sitting next to each other, on the opposite side Sam and Jess were discussing a subject from school. At the head of the table sat John, as close to sober as he could get. The other end was still free.

“She’ll be there any second,” Dean promised and poured water into glasses for everyone. Castiel had suggested to not have wine for dinner to make it easier for John. The others had aggreed (Dean had insisted on not asking the other children since they were too young to drink alcohol. So was he, technically, but that didn’t count).

The sound of the bell ringing cut through the house and stopped all conversations. Dean got up and opened the door to see Meg standing on the front porch, grinning smugly.

“Never thought you’d be a christmassy type of person.”

“I’m happy to see you, too, Meg,” he replied grinning.

“Nice to be out.”

Meg smiled and hugged Dean.

“Now, I smell food. Real food. Where’s the kitchen?”

She walked past him and entered the kitchen, stopping when she spotted Castiel.

“So you two really _did_ make out.”  
“Shut up,” Dean murmured before sitting down next to Cas.

Meg smirked and sat down at the last available space before talking to Cas.

“You know, Clarence, I really thought you were hot. For a father.”

Castiel shot a confused glance at Dean who shrugged.

“She did. Told me while I tried to digest what the juvie calls food.”

Christmas had been fun, really. John even stopped staring into thin air for long enough to talk about Christmas with Mary. His story was so emotional, his eyes so full of love that Dean reached out for Cas’ hand to hold under the table, seeking comfort. It was the most  vivid John had been since… Dean really didn’t know and it let a tiny bit of hope grow inside of him.

It was way past midnight when Dean decided that Jessica’s parents were probably waiting for their daughter and offered to take her home. Meg also seemed to be tired and said good-bye quickly before heading off to her apartment.

Dean came back to find Cas sitting on the sofa watching a documentary. He closed the door and shooed Sam to bed, made sure his father was asleep, then sat down next to Castiel.

“Did you know that almonds are completely dependant on bees?”

He turned to look at the  pastor who smiled at the TV screen where a little insect buzzed around a hive.

“No,” Dean replied. “No, I didn’t.”  
“I would like to collect honey once.”

Dean smiled and turned to watch the TV.

“We can do that.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“For what?”

“Accepting me. Caring for me enough to let me live with you.”  
Dean turned around and met Castiel’s eyes. They were almost glowing in a vibrant blue.

“You would’ve done the same for me.”

Castiel averted his eyes and turned to watch his hands. A blush crept up his face and settled in on his unshaven  cheeks.

“Would – would it be okay if I wanted to kiss you?” he stammered while still avoiding Dean’s eyes. He missed Dean’s smile as he gently reached out to turn Castiel’s head to look at him.

“You’re a dork, you know that?”

“I’m sorry for – – ”

“But you’re my dork. C’mere.”  
Dean didn’t let Cas speak but pulled him closer pressing his lips to the father’s mouth. Castiel tensed but relaxed almost instantly and melted against Dean. The teenager embraced Castiel, savored his taste, his fragrance, his presence, just with one kiss that lasted for only some seconds that seemed to be hours.

This. This made him happy. This was worth fighting for. And when Castiel was sound asleep, his head in Dean’s lap, the boy stroked those black strands of hair muttering quietly.

“God really does work in mysterious ways, huh?”

He knew there was a lot to come. Good. Bad. He’d go through it all with his family at his side. Sam and Cas. And one day, maybe even his father.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: self-harm, self-hatred, anorexia, drinking
> 
> I might edit this story later but I wanted it posted at Christmas, so there you are.  
> I hope you liked it!


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